


The Rebel Lady

by Aly_H



Series: Two Wardens and a Lady [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Eveline Cousland escapes death that fateful night in her family's castle, barely. Intending to seek justice for her family's murders and attempt to protect her father's subjects from Howe and worst of the effects that Blight and Civil War can have on a country she joins forces with two unlikely allies.The story of how the last Cousland becomes the Lady Rebel of the North.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so lots of OC action in this story, sorry about that. But I've done my best to weave them into the world in a way that makes sense.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The scent of smoke made her cough and choke as she jolted into wakefulness. The castle was under attack!

No, not a castle. The dim light flickered and her rescuer glanced over to see she’d woken. Vaguely she remembered wandering, bleeding from injuries she didn’t remember getting and feverish. Fear, panic, grief.

Now she was staring at a cave ceiling, surprisingly dry, with a fire lit somewhere between her and the entrance. A warmth stretched out at her side, the big black Mabari had his head nestled under her hand watching her.

“And the sleeping princess wakes,” the accent wasn’t one she’d ever heard before. It sounded vaguely similar to Oriana’s but it wasn’t bright enough to be Antivan. Northerner of some kind though… The man was dressed in a long leather coat, the designs on the cuffs and hem looked vaguely magical, done in silver threads that seemed to shimmer if the light caught them right – lyrium-infused embroidery?

“I…” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are safe, healed, dry and hunted. Your clothes were ruined so I dressed you in mine, they’re a little big,” the man replied. “My name’s Kallias. Kallias Floros. And you are?”

She hesitated – Howe would be hunting for her. This man could turn her over to him or be put in danger just by having seen her alive let alone _helping_ her.

“My lady, I assure you, that I won’t turn you over to anyone that’s hunting you as long as you don’t let the Templars know where I am,” the man commented, raising a brow at her.

“…Templars? You’re a mage then?” she tried not to squeak. She’d seen mages before – her father had one that lived in Highever as a retainer but she’d never had much to do with them. The idea of people who could twist reality with a thought was…unsettling?

“No – I just made a near-fatal injury heal to naught but bruises in a matter of hours by whistling,” the man looked more amused than anything. If he noticed the discomfort he was choosing not to react to it. Instead he filled a bowl with whatever was in the pot over the fire and handed her a bowl. “Eat, Princess.”

She looked at him, then eyed what was in the bowl, tasting it gingerly – reasoning that it was unlikely that someone would try to poison her after going through the trouble of healing.

“Not a Princess,” she said after the first bite. “My name’s Eveline Cousland.”

“The daughter of the Teyrn whose castle was attacked? My sympathies, my lady.”

She nodded slightly – not trusting herself to answer _that_. Instead she took the time to observe the mage. He was younger than Fergus, his mid-twenties, probably. With dark blond hair that he was currently redoing into a tight braided bun. His skin was a few shades darker than the Ferelden standard but not by much. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were exactly with the firelight except that they were pale – grey, blue or something similar.

“You could get into trouble helping me.”

“Mmm, perhaps, but I can’t imagine that my being a mage from Tevinter wouldn’t help much,” he gave a slight shrug. “What’s the harm in a little more trouble?”

“You’re a Magister?”

Eyebrow-twitch, “Southerners. Bless your hearts, no. I don’t have the proper bloodlines for it.”

“…why are you in Ferelden?”

“Curiosity, partially, avoiding the assassins my half-brother keeps sending my way for the most part. Thought I might travel to the south where the Old Ways are still practiced and make a study of Chasnid magic. With the Blight beginning I think I will take my chances in Rivain instead. More assassins, less Darkspawn and at least if the assassins catch me I’ll be warm. Oh, I know, if I’m being wasteful with my life anyways I’ll visit Seheron.”

“….aren’t mages supposed to be…I don’t know, scarier?”

“You always ask that of people that save your lives?”

She laughed and looked down at the Mabari, “Don’t know, Cal, do I ask you that a lot?”

The dog gave a huff and closed his eyes, clearly deciding to ignore the human he was bonded to.

“Oh so that beast has a name?” the mage tilted his head. “Cal?”

“Well…Calenhad,” she admitted.

Kallias Floros of Tevinter fixed her with the same sort of judging look that Fergus had: “You gave your _dog_ the same name as the man who founded your _country_?”

She gave a sheepish grin and a slight shrug. “He’s a very handsome Mabari at least.”

“The longer I’m in this country the more I believe that Tevinter was pushed out by the dogs and not the people,” the man replied, his expression and tone deadpan but there was a crinkle around his eyes that betrayed laughter.

He waited for her bowl to be empty and set aside before he spoke again, “Well, Lady Cousland, what do you intend to do?”

Her brows furrowed as she looked up.

“Go to Ostagar, I guess. My brother’s there and – what? Why are you looking like that?”

“I am sorry – all the word from the south says that Ostagar has fallen. The King, half his army and the Grey Wardens are dead.”


	2. Chapter 2

For whatever reason three days later as they left the small village, now supplied with clothes that fit and enough gear to survive the wild coastal lands the mage was still following her.

“Where are you going?” Kallias asked, his staff was not deceptively plain: a piece of black wood, green inlays like vines crawled up it. A crystal was set in the top, held in place by what looked like leaves – or maybe petals? For someone supposedly worried about the Templars he wasn’t making an effort to hide it – at least he didn’t wear those nightgown like robes most mages did. He was twirling it lazily between his hands.

“Denerim, I have to make sure people know what Howe did.”

“…Ferelden’s burn their dead yes?”

He watched as the thin shoulders dressed in leather armor squared beneath the dual handles of her axes – he’d hit a nerve, but right now he was fairly certain making sure the Cousland girl wasn’t an idiot was more important. She wasn’t a politician, or rather Ferelden wasn’t usually a country where such games were played, and so the poor dear was being slower to consider what had been the first explanation in his mind.

“Howe has been named Teryn of Highever _and_ given the Arling of Denerim. In terms of land he is now rivaled only by the Mac Tir family. He went from your father’s peon to the second most powerful man in the realm, overnight.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Cailan didn’t have an heir, Princess,” he met that steel-gray gaze with his own sea-glass colored one.

A beat and her brows came together, “Loghain’s a _hero_. Everyone knows how loyal to Maric he is, you can’t be suggesting!”

“Where a crown is concerned why wouldn’t I suggest that?” he said. “Princess – Howe’s murdering your family only works if the throne protects him from repercussions. Cailan the Golden? He wouldn’t have allowed the Cousland murder to stand, and if he thought your family were traitors he wouldn’t have broken into your keep in the middle of the night and murdered everyone.”

A chill worked down her spine as she stared at this foreigner whom she owed her life – she knew Cailan. She was younger than him and Anora but it’d been expected that she would one day serve as a supporting pillar of Ferelden society (as soon as the Cousland Pup was a little less wild) and so she’d met them a number of times growing up.

Cailan’s main sources of support were three of his father’s friends and allies: Loghain Mac Tir, Eamon Guerrin of Redcliffe, and Bryce Cousland. If Loghain wished to usurp power the remaining threats to his legitimacy would need to be removed.

Cailan was dead. The Grey Wardens killed, which meant _he_ was dead. Howe’s ambitions had destroyed her family except for her… Arl Eamon might help but more likely she’d be seen as a threat – or a tool. Teagan was unmarried after all and significant age gaps certainly didn’t bother Redcliffe’s Arl.

“Princess, breathe,” she hadn’t realized that the mage had gotten so close until his hands were on her shoulders, a bubbly feeling seeping through her beneath his palms.

She blinked before frowning, “Stop that. And stop calling me that.”

“I might, eventually,” the mage took his hands away. “Now, what will you do?”

“…what would you do?”

“In the face of nearly certain death by violent murder because of who my familial relations are? Run to the land of the Dog Lords,” the mage grinned before beginning to get them walking again. “There’s not that many options. You could try to find allies among the other nobles, if there are any you think you can trust or at least outplay?”

She shook her head at that.

“Two real options then: You run across the Waking Sea. You have relatives in the Free Marches, or elsewhere, that would consider taking you under their wing in exchange for promises when Highever is reclaimed. Doubtlessly you’ll be forced into a political marriage in the meantime.” Catching the look of disgust on her face – “Ah, so that’s why you don’t trust any of your fellow nobles.”

The Tevinter mage considered the sky, “I suppose you could always run off into the hills and become a wild rebel seeking vengeance against the vile snake Howe.”

“…huh.”

“What? No. That one was sarcasm, Princess. Don’t listen to the sarcasm. Go get married to some fat lord that will keep you safe.”

“Too late,” she laughed – despite everything that had happened the mage made her feel comfortable and safe, and though she still hurt it was easy to laugh around him. She looked to the big black Mabari that kept pace at her side as always, “Well, Cal, will you be the first knight in my rebel army?”

The dog barked his affirmative and bounced a few steps ahead before turning and play-bowing at her.

“…” Kallias stared at the insane Dog Lord who’d just decided that she and her dog were enough to take on the most powerful people in her country. Mentally he ran through the list of people most likely to do idiotic things that he knew – he’d have to write the sharp tongued Pavus that Alexius mentored: someone had _finally_ displaced him at the top of that list.

No, that would be a bad idea – if he wrote Dorian then doubtlessly Alexius would find out and it went without saying that anything Alexius discovered his wife Livia would discover and he didn’t particularly want to get dragged back to the Imperium by his ear by _his_ former teacher.

“Thank you for everything, Kallias,” the woman had turned to him and bowed.

“Don’t even try saying goodbye,” he raised an eyebrow. “I am not letting you run off to the hills and undo all my hard work in a matter of days.”

“Eh?”

“I mean, Princess, that you’re not getting rid of me yet. Lead the way and I’ll keep your insides from falling out along the way as best I can. You’re going to need someone to the way you’re going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kallias Floros lacks the proper blood both for the Magisterium as well as to receive a proper education in magic in Tevinter's circles. He had the fortune of falling under the wing of one Livia Arida as a student for a time. It was under her tutelage that he's crossed paths with a young Dorian Pavus who at the time would still be a student of her husband (Gereon Alexius).
> 
> I can't find anything on Livia except for that she took on a half dozen apprentices, was Felix's mother, and married Gereon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Templar

“He was a sort of flashy dressed guy, had this funny walking stick,” the old man was nodding, as he thought about it. “His voice was kinda funny, but he did something and it cleared Widow Thrain’s hip problem right up. Like magic it was, seemed like a nice boy. He in trouble?”

“I’m not sure,” the violet eyed Templar replied as he set down the old man’s shopping at the stoop of his house. He’d carried them in agreement for the man telling him about any strangers that passed by and stood out.

Widow Thrain, working in the garden in front of her house peaked over the wall to ask, “Is he asking about the nice young couple that came through?”

“Couple?”

“I almost forgot ‘bout the young lady,” the man considered. “She brought in some rabbits and traded them for vegetables she did. Pretty as you please, but got this sort of mean look in her eye like she’s itchin’ to kill a man. The lad seemed too nice by far for her.”

“This young lady, she carrying any weapons?”

“Yeah, axes. Two of them, and she had a bow. Plus a fine looking Mabari at her heel. Dog like that’s good as a set of soldiers all on their own,” the old man nodded.

“Some of the new Lord’s men were asking about her, headed towards the forest to look for them,” the Widow considered. “Think they might be eloping?”

“Thank you very much,” the Templar bowed to them both. “Can you tell me which direction they went?”

Apparently the pair had passed through into the coastal hill country. Not terribly unusual or an apostate. Lots of smugglers could be found in this part of Ferelden taking advantage of the jagged, mountainous coastline along the Waking Sea. It was a good place to find passage away from Templars.

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard about a girl and a dog being looked for – Howe’s men had been hunting the region for the woman nearly as long as he’d been tracking the Tevinter mage through the area. They didn’t want trouble with the Chantry though so they weren’t keen on approaching even a lone Templar. As such he had no idea what the young woman had done to be hunted – that she’d apparently joined forces with an apostate was not a good sign though.

He headed into the forest, following the road, peering into the trees as it began to rain _again_ (Maker, there were some things he hated about Ferelden) he instructed himself: “Never complain about phylacteries within earshot of Greagoir again, Luke.”

The lack of response to the birds he’d sent his reports with and even more rumors regarding demons at the Circle than usual wasn’t a comfortable thought. He’d seen some bad Circles being bounced around Thedas in terms of his assignments. Ferelden was by no means the best of them in terms of its treatment of mages (Ostwick, thankfully, held that title) but nor was it the worst he’d been in – and he prayed someone noticed how insane Meredith was before things got out of hand.

Greagoir and Irving bickered constantly and young Surana’s actions had done little to alleviate the tension there but the Jowan incident wasn’t enough to have exacerbated things dangerously. He _hoped_ the story of an escaping maleficar was simply being over exaggerated to cause those rumors.

His job was to catch the overly-adventurous Tevinter who’d wandered into the South and caught the attention of the Chantry by saving a Mother’s life when she’d been hit by a horse cart. Andrastians were keen on nothing if not gratitude, after all. Once he managed to snag the mage he’d haul him into the Circle until someone from Tevinter managed to bribe the right people to get him shipped back to Minrathous or they got overly antsy about his influencing the Circle mages with northern philosophies and they branded him.

Or Luke could do what most of his brethren would do and simply kill the man but that seemed…churlish? Abhorrent? Monstrous?

No, catch the mage – prove to recruits like young Cullen that it was possible to be a successful Templar and still treat mages like people – and get back to the Tower where while there was little to do at least he had a roof over his head and wasn’t listening to water go _tink-tink-TInk-tink-tink_ off his own armor.

A few hours later he was regretting thinking it would be as simple as ‘Catch the mage.’

Hunt down a single foreign apostate. Should’ve been a simple task – or as simple as Templar tasks got. Especially since Tevinter mages weren’t used to having to hide their abilities or fight real Templars. (He was choosing to ignore that their combat tactics had been honed against the Qunari who were a much better fighting force than the Templars even.)

Instead he was looking up into two pairs of eyes, one steel blue-gray and the other chocolate brown. Of course the second pair also belonged to a dog – he jerked back before a line of slobber could fall from above and onto his face.

“Hello, serah,” he said at last when the young lady watching him didn’t say anything. She matched the descriptions of the one that the local lord was hunting for alright.

“Kallias, I think this one’s yours,” the young woman turned to call to someone over her shoulder.

“The pit trap actually _worked_?” the second voice was doubtlessly his quarry with that accent. A blond haired man peered over the side of the hole beside the dog, “Huh. Guess you’re right.”

“We can’t just kill a Templar, think he can get out if we leave him here?”

“I can hear you, you know?” Luke said, starting to feel a headache come on. No magic was being used and in heavy armor these two would be well away before he managed to claw out of the pit he’d found himself in.

“We don’t have time to convince him to behave himself and drag him out.”

“True,” the woman disappeared over the rim leaving Kallias to observe his pursuer.

All in all the Templar wasn’t that bad looking, he decided. The warm violet colored eyes were actually quite handsome, as was the auburn red hair that the man was wearing. He tried not to laugh as the rope that flew over the edge of the hole smacked the Chantry knight in the face.

The woman was back grinning to him, “I tied that off to a tree, so you should be able to get yourself out now. Good luck, Ser Templar.”

As they were walking away he heard the mage ask: “Did you just wish the Templar that’s hunting me as an apostate _luck_?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, come on – we don’t have much time to get to Highever and we don’t know if we can get the _hahren_ to even believe us.”


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s _creepy_ the way those knife-ears just vanished,” the voice caught his attention as he came into the Chantry. In need of rest he was intending to bother the Templars stationed at Highever’s main Chantry both for a place to sleep and he’d need to talk to the Revered Mother regarding lyrium whether he wanted to or not, he didn’t have enough for a prolonged chase, especially not with a mage who knew what he was doing. (Plus the blood mage that he’d run across leaving the forest who thought that Luke’d been hunting _her_ that he’d had to kill.)

“Way I heard it was that the ghost of the Cousland’s came back and stole them away.”

“Ghost, wouldn’t it be more’n one? They all was killed. Heard they even butchered the young lad,” the first peasant snorted.

“Monsters, who kills a child for their family’s crimes?”

“The servants were innocent too, lots of people that had nothing to do with any Orlais deals got killed when the Couslands burned. Bloody nobles.”

A third person whispered over, “Did you hear though, the young lady wasn’t killed. I heard she was the one who got the elves out before the purge.”

It’d been two months that he’d been hunting apostates in the area. A nest of blood mages had proven a distraction from his quest for the Tevinter mage and the stories about the pair were growing more and more wild with each passing day. Well, about the young woman.

That she had a mage companion was known but little else was.

 A young woman with short black hair, was lighting candles for the dead. It took him a moment but then he recognized her as the same girl. She was wearing a plain dress, and the only thing to note that she was a fighter was that one of her knuckles was scraped.

She spotted him and approached, looking him over: “You know, Kali’s not here. But then he’s not really the Chantry-going sort.”

“I can see that – you two have been busy.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is.”

“Where are the elves?”

“Safe.”

“That’s not good enough – I need to know they’re not on their way to Tevinter as slaves.”

Seeing his glare she tilted her head, regarding him curiously as if evaluating him. “Tell you what, Ser Templar. You worried about the elves I’ll show you where they are. Meet me at the Maiden’s Sorrow tonight.”

She slipped past him and out the Chantry doors, and he looked at the line of candles she’d lit – five. A number that sit uncomfortably in his own gut when it came to death.

A father, a mother, a brother, a sister-in-law and a nephew.

Lyrium, sleep then a map to find out where this Maiden’s Sorrow was - he knew he should probably get reinforcements from the city’s local Templar forces but something in his gut was telling him not to.

_Gonna get yourself into trouble **again** Lucien._


	5. Chapter 5

Maiden’s Sorrow, it turned out was a crossroads outside town with a large dead tree set at the middle. Local story claimed that a young noblewoman had been attempting to elope with her lover when he was discovered and killed. In despair she hung herself from the tree. It was claimed that if you passed the tree after breaking someone’s heart the maiden’s ghost would place a curse on you.

Tonight however there was no ghost. Although she certainly moved like one dropping out of the tree’s branches behind him.

“Kali owes me a sovereign,” she informed the Templar. “He was certain that you’d show up with a full set of Templars.”

“Where is he?” he looked around.

“With the elves, probably still cursing my family name for the conditions of the Highever alienage,” she said, waving for the Templar to follow her.

“What is that family name?”

“Dunno – what’s yours?”

Not sure if he wanted to be annoyed or laugh – this girl reminded him of his siblings – he gave her an honest answer: “Trevelyan.”

She paused, glancing the man over. “Well you do have the Marcher accent, but that’s a noble family’s name, why’re you doing grunt work as a Templar. Shouldn’t you have a cushy position because your family name?”

“I did, back at the Ostwick Circle,” he replied, following her. “Two years ago I was giving my sister a lesson in swordplay and she blasted a crater in the family training yard and sent me flying. Ostwick’s a good circle for mages, if I hadn’t transferred they’d have sent her to Kirkwall. Managed there four months before Meredith decided I was a trouble maker and I got shipped to Kinloch Hold. Wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“…so you’re a mage hunter and your little sister is a mage?”

“I protect and defend against the abuse of _magic_ , not mages,” he sighed. “Mages are people, they’re just a little more efficient at being able to express their displeasure with you.”

“You are one odd Templar, Trevelyan.”

“Luke. My name’s Lucien Trevelyan. And you, my lady, still haven’t given yours.”

“Eveline. Eveline Cousland,” she turned them off the road and into the forest.

She was taking them on a carefully laid path, meant to lose anyone who might be trailing them. And he realized that it had been nearly an hour before flashes of movement in the corner of his eye. Elves – not Dalish either from the looks of them given they lacked the tattoos.

A turn down a ravine and at the mouth of a cave system he saw people – guards with makeshift weapons and two or three knights. Two had the Cousland wreath and another carried a shield which indicated his service to Redcliffe.

“There’s no risk of Darkspawn…” she commented seeing his eyes linger on the caves before beginning to follow her down the slope to the entrance. “We sealed off the Carta’s entrance to the Deep Roads and they’d already closed up everywhere else that they might have gotten through easily. It’ll be a massacre if Howe’s people find us but right now it’s the best shelter I can offer anyone.”

“The alienage’s elves,” he murmured, a little wide eyed as she led him inside the cave system which looked like it was actually the remains of an old Dwarven trading post.

“Just those who couldn’t find shelter elsewhere in the city. Howe ordered Amaranthine and Denerim Purged too,” she grimaced. “The South is going to fall, I can’t send these people to Gwaren and hope they survive the journey and that _that_ alienage is safer.”

“You’re going to try to defend these people with what?” his brows furrowed. He didn’t understand the purpose of trying to Purge the alienage except for prejudice, but Howe’s policies would quickly grow unpopular and more people would be driven to seek shelter in this place. This girl had to know that.

“Four knights, seven scouts, a Tevinter not-Magister and a Mabari. Oh, and my axes.”

They turned a corner out of what had probably been the main hall into what would’ve been a shop or office while this was an active trade hub. Make-shift beds and cots filled with the sick were being kept as clean as possible.

Eveline caught the arm of an old woman who was changing bandages with the efficiency of a practiced nurse. “How long has it been since he rested?”

“Too long,” the old woman frowned, casting a look at the mage from before whose glowing hand was over a child’s chest.

“Is there anyone at risk of dying?”

“Not tonight, you going to bully him into stopping?”

“Probably. Templar – stay.” She pointed at the doorway, and Luke bowed, stepping back outside. From inside the infirmary he can hear a hushed argument and a scuffle and then the mage is unceremoniously shoved out the door.

The blond freezes as he sees the red haired Templar “What are you doing here? What is he doing here?! Eveline, this isn’t funny!”

“We need help. Howe’s hiring mages – we have _two_ and much as Granny Rose is a sweet old woman for all she keeps insisting that I have to learn to appreciate cheese for some reason, she’s only good for healing. You can do the flash-bang stuff when you have to. Plus a bunch of other weird mage-y things.”

“Wait…you’re _recruiting_ me?” Luke stared at her.

“Yes? No? Maybe?” the girl gave a helpless little shrug – for the first time that night looking her age. “Sorta depends on you there. I don’t want to kill you but I can’t have you chasing Kali around.”

“What’s your goal here?”

“I want Howe to pay for what he’s done but his people – his _orders_ \- will kill more than just my family. I could go to Denerim and kill him but I wouldn’t walk away from that.”

“I thought we discussed this telling people your plan’s vengeance thing,” Kallias muttered. “Not going to win you any friends.”

“I’ll help so long as you are helping people and not just out for blood I will lend you my shield.”

“…we can’t reliably get you lyrium,” the mage said, pale green, almost gold eyes studying him closely.

“I’ll figure something out,” he replied, noting the look of confusion the young woman was wearing, but not elaborating.

“And you realize we’re all probably going to die horrible deaths?” the blond added.

The violet eyed Templar smirked: “Of course we won’t – if that happens who’ll write the ballads of the heroic Lady Rebel?”

The mage stared at him a long moment before turning away, grumbling something in Tevene and walking away. Eveline watched after him before looking to her new ally:

“’Lady Rebel’, huh? Not sure I like the sound of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested: Luke Trevelyan is the eldest of the Trevelyan siblings, but opted for a life with the Chantry rather than dealing with the Trevelyan's political games. He has four younger siblings: Loraine, Lowell, Leopold (Leo), and Lark.
> 
>  
> 
> Depending on the story-line either Leo or Lark will eventually become the Inquisitor. I'm unsure what happens to their eldest brother in 9:41 however.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Also, I feel like I should apologize to the Dragon Age fandom on here, I've been posting a LOT lately. Sorry 'bout that.)
> 
> For more of the adventures of the Wardens Mahariel and Surana and their allies please check out my Two Wardens and a Lady series!


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